


Dean  - 15

by phantisma



Series: Ages [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-18
Updated: 2006-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is 15, everything changes...but is he slipping further into "normal" or is he just losing his mind?  Here comes the pain, folks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean  - 15

He was fifteen when he first realized how much had changed. It was Sam’s eleventh birthday. Sam and Jenny and Janet were already gone from the house, and Dean was supposed to meet them at the roller rink in a few hours. As he dumped school books onto the desk and sorted through them looking for the card he’d gotten his brother, his eyes fell on the corner of the calendar Janet had given them the year before.

They haven’t touched it in weeks, maybe more than a month. Dean pulled it out and opened it, flipping it back to January. There’s a couple of school functions marked and the first two weeks are marked off in bright green ink. Sam hasn’t asked about Dad since at least them.

It had been at least that long since Dean had written anything in the journal. He’d gotten a card from him for his birthday, but nothing since. Truth was, Dean hadn’t thought about his father in months. He was far more concerned with the current father figure in his life and what the hell was wrong with him.

Dean tossed the calendar in a drawer and got up to get Sam’s birthday present from the closet. He’d shoveled a lot of snow and mowed a lot of lawns to get the money for it, and it had taken him weeks to find, but it would be worth it when he saw Sam’s face. It was the perfect replica of his own, which he’d gotten a lot less honestly. He’d even gotten it a size too big because at the rate Sam was growing he’d need a new one all too soon.

Dean tucked the box under his arm and headed down the stairs. A quick check of the clock said he had time to get over to Cassie’s house to pick her up and still stop for the cake. He’d gotten as far as the sidewalk when his vision clouded and pain lanced through his head. Images flashed through him, nightmarish images of demonic faces and blood, blond hair and bruised flesh.

He sat down hard, cradling his head, the box dropped in the grass forgotten. He gulped air as a second round of images crashed into him, Cassie’s face, her eyes frozen open and opaque, her body twisted in an impossible position, blood all over her. It passed slowly and he fought against a wave of nausea before finally raising his head. He was panting, and filled with the need to get to Cassie’s house. Something in his gut told him that what he had seen wasn’t just some nightmare.

He picked up the box and ran, rounding the corner and running the two blocks to her street. His heart was racing as he bounded up her walk. Her father’s car was in the driveway, but there was no immediate answer when he knocked. Dean rang the bell, and looked through the window, smiling in relief when Cassie appeared, smiling at him. She opened the door and her smile dimmed. “You okay?”

He reached for her, hugging her close. “Yeah…yeah, I just…never mind. You ready?”

She smiled again and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, let me just get my jacket and tell my father I’m leaving.”

She went back into the house, and another flash came over him, her face as something pulled her away from him, into the house, his voice screaming her name as she died. He shook his head to clear it. By the time she had come back to the door, he’d managed a smile that he knew she’d know was fake.

“Let’s go.”

 

By the time they’d gotten to the roller rink, the party was well under way and Dean tried harder to shake off the odd feeling of panic the…vision…had left him with. Sam’s friends were all loudly crowding around the table in the party room, while Janet and a few other parents watched from one side. Dean held up the cake as he came in, and she directed him where it should go.

Dean had to smile when he saw Sam. There had never been any real birthday parties for them before. They were never in one place long enough for them to have enough friends to warrant a party, even if they had had the money. Sam had never looked happier. Dean and Cassie took a spot at the far end of the table, Cassie snuggled into the space between Dean’s legs as he straddled the bench.

This was something his father would never see. Sam looked like he belonged there, among the kids of their yuppie neighbors, like he’d lived among them his whole life. Dean swallowed the anger and sighed. Cassie’s lips brushed his cheek and he smiled automatically for her. “You sure you’re okay?”

He nodded. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

She frowned at him. “You’ve been getting them a lot lately.”

“It’s nothing.” She wasn’t wrong. The nightmares had gotten bad again, and they led to headaches. This one wasn’t all that different. “I’ve been studying harder.” Which was true. For the first time in his life he’d found a reason to work at school work. Part of it was competition, Cassie was in the top 5% of their class and that pushed him. The other was the idea that there might actually be something out there after high school.

He didn’t let himself think about it much. It was too elusive, slippery and if he let it become more solid it might hurt him…might make him admit his father wasn’t coming back…

“Maybe you need a break.”

Dean smiled. “This is a break.”

“Let’s skate.”

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t skate.”

“Everyone skates Dean.”

“Not me.”

She pouted at him and he pulled his hands up. “Seriously. I don’t.”

“Come on.” She tickled him and he jumped backward, almost falling off the bench.

Dean let himself be cajoled out to the skate rental, and even to the point of lacing them up, but as Cassie led him onto the floor, his head reeled and Cassie gasped. Something warm and wet was on his face, and he suddenly tasted copper and his hands came up to his face, coming away bloody. He stumbled backward and fell, knocking into a table before hitting the ground.

Cassie was yelling and he tried to tell her it was just a nose bleed, but the med tech for the rink was already next to him, pressing gauze pads to his nose. Dean saw stars and couldn’t really concentrate until suddenly Sam was next to him, holding his hand.

His face was white, scared, and Dean smiled for him. “I’m fine Sammy. Just a bloody nose.”

Janet was there suddenly too and Dean felt supremely silly with all of the attention. He pushed the EMT off of him, using his own hand to press the sides of his nose together. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Janet asked.

“Nothing, it just started bleeding.” Cassie said.

Janet looked at the med tech. “Is he okay?”

The tech moved Dean’s hand. “The blood flow seems to be letting up. I’m sure he’ll be fine. If it continues though, you’re going to want to have it looked at.”

“I’m fine.” Dean said again, though no one seemed to be listening to him.

“You’re bleeding.” Sam said. “Bleeding isn’t fine.”

Dean recognized the words because he’d said the same thing to Sam years before. Sam’s eyes met his and some unspoken bond kindled. Dean swallowed because it had been a long time since they’d had that and he hadn’t even noticed it was gone. It had been so long since all they needed was each other. He nodded slowly and Sam’s grip on his hand loosened up. “Go back to your party Sammy. I’m all done bleeding.”

“Promise?” For all the growing he’d done, Sam suddenly looked like that scared 8 year old with a fever that Dean had taken to the emergency room.

“Promise.”

Sam nodded and made a show of helping Dean off the floor. Dean ruffled his hair and looked up to meet Janet’s eyes. “I think I should probably go home and clean up.” His shirt and hand was covered in blood.

She nodded. “Can you go yourself?”

“I’ll take him home Mrs. Caplin.” Cassie said, slipping an arm around Dean.

Janet nodded.

“I’m really sorry I ruined his party.” Dean said, looking back at Sam who was rejoining his friends. “He’s never really had one. I wanted it to be perfect.”

She smiled for him. “Don’t worry about it Dean. I doubt he’ll hold it against you.”

 

Several hours later, Dean was in a clean shirt after a long hot shower. He headed downstairs to scrounge up some food, seeing as he was missing out on the corn dogs and fries at the party. He stopped short as he went into the kitchen, not expecting find George there. “Oh, I thought you were working.”

George looked up at him and Dean started. His eyes were black as night, his face vacant. Years of training kicked him in the gut. “Christo,” he murmured.

George flew out of his seat and came at Dean, his hands closing around Dean’s neck as he pushed him into the refrigerator. “Oh, God.” Dean whispered, his hands pulling at George’s hands, even as they pulled him off his feet. “George?”

“Dean Winchester.” George’s smile quirked funny and Dean knew this wasn’t George. “Smile pretty for your father Dean.”

Dean’s eyes were caught by his big black ones, mesmerized. He almost imagined he could see his father in their depths, his face bruised and his eyes widening, as if he could see Dean too. “Dad?” Dean whispered. He was starting to have trouble breathing.

George blinked and the image was gone from his eyes. His one thumb pressed deep enough that his nail drew blood and George hissed as the blood coated his thumb. “These gifts were not meant for you Dean.” He cocked his head. “They will make you crazy. I can take them away. Give you a normal life…”

“Fuck you.” Dean struggled, kicking out until he connected with a knee and the grip on his throat lessened. He threw himself forward and kicked again and both he and George went crashing to the ground. He didn’t’ know what gifts he was talking about, but Dean was damned sure he wasn’t letting a demon have anything of his.

Dean rolled away, gasping for air, his head reeling. He was going to pass out. He opened his eyes as George towered over him and Dean tried to yell, but all that came out was a hoarse croaking. George smiled a sickening smile. “You’re going to come to us on your own one day Dean…and we’ll wait, while it drives you crazy…while your family falls further and further away…in the end you’ll come.”

Dean felt fury flush through him, felt something push out of him, then his vision grew dark as George’s head was thrown back and black inky darkness poured out of him. He watched as George collapsed beside him, before he fell back to the cool tile floor.

 

There was a moment of clarity as he felt himself lifted, Sam’s hand in his and someone telling Sam to move. Then there was darkness again. Somehow he knew when he woke the next time that quite a while has passed. He opened his eyes sluggishly. The room was dark, but smelled like a hospital. There was a hand in his, Sam’s hand he knew.

Sam stirred, sitting up as Dean moved to try to sit up. “No, the doctor’s said you should stay laying down.” Sam said, and his voice sounded rough. “And don’t talk. Your throat is bruised. They’re waiting for the swelling to go down to know how much damage there is.”

Dean looked around the room, but they were alone. “Janet just left like a half hour ago. She took Jenny home. She’ll be back.”

“George?” Dean rasped.

“Please, Dean. Don’t talk.”

Dean shook his head. Tears welled in Sam’s eyes and Dean sighed. He nodded and lifted his hand to Sam’s face, giving in to Sam’s fear.

“I thought…I thought you were gone.” Sam said after a while. “I walked in and found you there, on the floor…and there was blood, everywhere.” Sam didn’t even try to stop the tears, just clung to Dean’s hand.

Blood. Dean didn’t remember blood. He remembered choking, he remembered George’s eyes black like coal, like oil. He remembered thinking he was going to die. The door to the room opened and a nurse came in.

“Good, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

Dean shrugged as she switched on the light and came to the side of the bed, her fingers reaching for his wrist. “Well, I hope your brother has told you no talking, at least not until we get a good look tomorrow.”

Dean nodded and she smiled. “Good. I’m sure the doctor will want to come by and see you now that you’re awake. Sam, when is your mother coming back for you?”

“I’m not leaving.”

She smiled and Dean suddenly recognized her. She’d been here at the hospital that night. Nancy. He squeezed Sam’s hand. “I know you’re not, honey. I remember.” She pushed Sam’s hair out of his face. “The two of you leave quite an impression, you know.”

Sam nodded, looking more serious than Dean could remember seeing him. “She’ll be back soon. She was taking Jenny home and getting someone to sit with her.”

Nancy smiled and turned her attention back to Dean. “This brother of yours is something else. We almost had to surgically remove him from your hand to examine you.” She fiddled with his IV, which he hadn’t even noticed.

Dean smiled weakly and pulled Sam closer. “You rest. I’ll be back when the doctor comes.”

Dean’s throat hurt, he could almost feel the fingers still pressing into his skin. The demon had left George. He’d seen it. But there hadn’t been any blood. Not that he had seen. He squeezed Sam’s hand to get his attention, then pulled free to make motions like he was writing. Sam nodded and scampered away, coming back with a pad of paper and a pencil a few minutes later.

_George_? Dean scribbled.

Sam’s eyes were big. “Was he there?”

Dean licked his lips. _He did this._

Sam shook his head. “No, not George. Someone broke in Dean.”

_Demon_

Sam’s hand covered the paper and pushed his hand to the bed. “No, Dean. No.”

_Something is very wrong._

“Yes, there is. You almost died. You almost left me.”

Dean could see the fear in Sam’s green eyes and sighed. _Never. I will never leave you._

“Promise?”

Dean smiled and nodded, putting the pen down to take Sam’s hand. Dean knew what he saw. No matter how much Sam wanted to deny it.

 

The doctor came and went, and Jenny returned. Sam was asleep on the empty bed beside Dean’s as she came in.

“They said you were awake. How do you feel?”

Dean’s mouth twitched in something he meant to say he’d live and he shifted, reaching for the pen and paper. _I’m okay._

She’d been crying, he could see it. Her hands were shaking. _You?_

“I was worried. You were…” She shook her head. “I thought Sam was going to lose it. He found you.”

_What happened?_ He had decided he needed to know what the “official” story was before he said anything.

“We aren’t sure. The police think someone broke in while you were upstairs, and you surprised them when you came down. Nothing was stolen, but…”

Dean nodded, covering her hand with one of his. He bit his lip, unsure if he should tell her about George…definitely not about the demon, but… _Where’s George?_ He figured it was a safe enough question, considering.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled her hand away. “He…he’s down the hall. He’s hurt. They aren’t sure what’s wrong with him.”

_Me? Doctor wouldn’t tell me_

“Well, your throat is pretty bruised up, and you had another nose bleed, a really bad one. They’re going to run some tests tomorrow to check that out. You’ve got some bumps and bruises, but none of them really bad.”

Dean nodded slightly and looked over at Sam. He didn’t understand how George had been hurt. The demon came out and he’d collapsed, but that was…he yawned and Janet touched his hand. “You should sleep. I’m going to be down the hall with George. If you need anything, one of the nurses can get me.”

 

Two days of tests, and a rotating round of doctors and specialists had Dean ready to bust out of the hospital, and the only thing that was keeping him there was Sam, with his concerned eyes and his sincere expression. Sam demanded answers that Dean couldn’t offer on his own, so he stayed.

Cassie came by each day for a while, bringing him his homework and sitting with him while he worked on it. She didn’t cry in front of him, but he could tell she was upset. Janet brought Jenny by and together they cajoled Sam into going home to shower and change his clothes and eat a real meal, but he was back before the day was over.

It was just him and Janet though when the doctor came in to discuss the test results. She sat on the side of his bed and held his hand. “How are you feeling, Dean?”

The doctor he saw the most of was an older man, probably in his late 50s with gray hair and a jovial face that was far more serious right that moment. “I—still a little sore.” Dean rasped.

“Any more headaches?”

Dean made a dismissive face. “They come and go.”

“Well, I think we’ve found a reason for them.” He opened a folder and crossed to the light panel on the wall. He shoved a film onto it and turned it on. There were a dozen little pictures of what Dean assumed was his head. “See this?”

The doctor pointed with his pen to a small area where there was a shadow. “We aren’t sure what it is, exactly, but it isn’t a tumor.”

Janet breathed a sigh of relief next to him and Dean squeezed her hand. “What can we do?” she asked.

The doctor turned back to them. “For now, I ‘d like to keep an eye on it, get pictures every few months. We’ll treat the symptoms, but until we know more, I don’t want to do too much.”

He crossed back to Dean’s bed. “In the meantime, I want you to keep a journal of the symptoms. What you are doing, what time of day it is, when they happen. We’re looking for correlation.”

Dean nodded. “Can I go home?”

The doctor smiled. “Tomorrow.”

 

Dean waited until Janet had gone home and Sam was asleep on the adjacent bed, and let himself out of bed and out of his room. George wasn’t hard to find. The hospital wasn’t really big, and Janet had said he was just down the hall.

He stood in the doorway for a long time, staring at the comatose form of his foster father. Memory flashed of those big hands on his throat and Dean swayed. Words had passed between them…but Dean couldn’t remember them, could only remember his dark eyes and his hands. Yet, George looked so helpless laying there…so small.

After a long while, Dean turned away and shuffled back to his own room. Sam stirred and looked at him. “Dean?”

“Just stretching my legs, squirt.”

Sam nodded and rolled over, onto his back. “You okay?”

Dean nodded and came to sit on the bed beside Sam. “I want to go home, but yeah, I’m okay.”

Sam sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. “Do you remember any more about what happened?”

Dean inhaled deeply. The police had been there earlier in the day asking the same questions. Dean’s answers for them weren’t going to fly with Sam, he knew that. “I already told you what happened Sam.” Dean said softly, one hand rising to his throat as if that would lessen the pain of speaking.

Sam sighed and rested his head on his knees. “How long has it been, Dean?”

“Since what?”

“Since we saw Dad.”

Dean sighed and Sam’s hand shot out to catch his. “I’m serious. Dean, you’ve got to stop this demon stuff.”

Dean looked at him, anger rising inside him. “What?”

Sam’s eyes closed. “It was one thing with Dad. We didn’t know better. But God Dean, its been three years. We’ve got a good thing here. I don’t want to see you throw it away.”

“Sam, you know better.”

“Do I?” Sam’s head lifted, his green eyes meeting Dean’s. “Do I, Dean? Why, because Dad said so? I don’t…” He sighed heavily. “I never saw a demon Dean. No ghosts, no anything.”

“I did.” Dean said, pulling his hand free of Sam’s.

“Are you sure? Maybe you just saw what you wanted to see. Maybe you just saw what Dad wanted you to see.” Sam’s voice was small.

Dean got up and paced away. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He chewed his lip and stared out the window at the grounds below, lit by scattered street lights. He knew what he’d seen. He knew.

Sam’s hand was on his back, but Dean didn’t turn. “Don’t be angry Dean.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he felt himself let go a little of the anger. “No, Sam, not angry.” He reached around him and pulled Sam to his side, wrapping his arm around him. “Not angry with you.” He repeated. Hurt, scared, yes…but his anger, he found was directed elsewhere.

“It’s almost midnight, we should try to sleep.”

Dean couldn’t begrudge his little brother the desire to ignore the nasty things that filled the night, the scary bad things other kids all believed were nothing more than stories. He sighed and followed Sam back to the beds. “I love you, you know squirt.” Dean said as he tucked Sam in like he was five instead of eleven.

“Then stop calling me squirt.” Sam said with a smile.

“I’ll stop calling you squirt when you’re taller than I am.” Dean responded in a whisper. “Which means never.” He moved over to his bed. “Sleep Sammy. We go home tomorrow.”

 

Everything was different when he finally did come home. There were new house keys and an alarm system. Janet was still at the hospital a lot, sitting with George, who didn’t appear to be waking up any time soon. Dean took over cooking responsibilities and making sure homework got done. Nearly three days passed before the nightmares came, blending terror filled memories with visions of death and bringing Dean up out of bed with a bloody nose and a headache.

He shook as he leaned over the bathroom sink, blood dripping into the basin as the images tore through his head. It took everything he had not to run to Cassie’s house on the spot or call her. It was 3 in the morning. It was just a dream. It was the same dream. Same as the vision. Cassie was going to die. He was certain of it.

The blood had stopped so he cleaned up and headed downstairs. He wasn’t going to go back to sleep, so he figured he’d make some coffee and study for his upcoming exam. The phone startled him and he grabbed at it before it could wake anyone else.

“Hello?”

“Dean? Are you all right?”

Dean pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at the phone. “Dad?”

“Answer me.”

“Yes, yes, sir. I’m all right.”

“Did you kill it?” Dean shook his head.

“What? Dad, what are you talking about?”

“I saw Dean. The bastard showed me that it had you.”

“I—I’m fine…I don’t know…”

“Christ Dean.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t. “You still there?”

“Yeah, Dad. I’m here.”

“Where have you been, I’ve been calling all hours for the last week.”

“I was…in the hospital…then taking care of Sam and Jenny.”

“Hospital? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dean nodded, then shook his head. “Yeah, there’s…it’s nothing, I’m sure. Something with my brain. I’m fine.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“No, Dad. Just…wait for summer. Things are too…intense right now.”

John was quiet for a minute. “How’s Sam?”

“He’s good, Dad. You’d be proud. Top of his class.”

“Did he get the card?”

“I don’t know, like I said, things have been intense.”

“Summer?”

“Yeah, Dad. Let me know when you’ll be here. I’ll arrange something.”

“Okay. You look after your brother, and keep yourself safe.”

“You too.”

“I love you, Son.”

Dean stared at the phone long after his father had hung up, trying to place the sound in his voice. He shook it off and hung up the receiver, jumping when it rang again right away. “Dean!”

“Cassie?”

“Oh god Dean, its back…its here…Dean!”

Dean dropped the phone and bolted out of the house in bare feet and wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, racing the familiar track to Cassie’s house and up the walk. She was at the door as he got there, her eyes wild with fear. She threw open the door and grabbed for him and he could see her father behind her…only not her father. His face was cracked, his eyes a strange green-gold.

His hands closed instinctively around her wrists and he tried to pull her to him, but something held her. “Dean!”

“Cassie, hold on.” He pulled harder, but she was slipping out of his grasp. Her father came closer, his smile obscene.

“This one is mine Dean. Just like your mother was mine.”

Cassie’s stomach started bleeding and Dean screamed. She flew back into the house and the door slammed shut. He pushed and pounded on it, watching helplessly as Cassie screamed, hovering over the floor, her bones cracking, her body mangled by forces he couldn’t see. He pounded and kicked, knowing the neighbors would likely call the cops and for once really hoping they showed up in time, but as his eyes met hers he knew. Her lips moved, and her eyes went cold and Dean collapsed onto the step, holding his arms around him and rocking.

He was still there when the cops showed up ten minutes later. “She’s dead,” he said dully to the first officer who showed up. “I couldn’t get in.” He turned a tear stained face to the man, his body numb.

“Did you see what happened?”

His partner was looking in the window and Dean shivered. “He killed her…just…Oh my god.” Dean leaned forward and retched into the bushes, quivering.

“You should see this.” The officer left him for a moment, peering in through the window, before turning back to Dean.

“Did you see this happen?” Dean nodded, rocking slightly. “Is the man who did this still here?”

Dean looked up at him. “I-I don’t know. He…he was in there…he killed her…I couldn’t open the door.” He shivered.

“Okay. Why don’t you come with me, back to my car. You’ll be safer there.”

Dean felt himself moving, but his mind was stuck on the sight of Cassie being broken. He was aware that he was retching again, of hands on his back, and then nothing but the cool blackness.

 

“Dean are you with me?”

Fingers snapped in front of his face and he followed them…up to a warm face, a woman…someone he thought he should know. “Yeah,” he grunted, looking around him.

“Do you know where you are?”

Dean looked around him. It was an office, wood paneling, a big wooden desk, pictures of smiling kids. He looked down at his knees, curled up to his chest in the chair. Thin cotton pants that weren’t his. He looked back at her. “Hospital?”

She smiled. “Good. Do you remember who I am?”

She was at least forty, with dark auburn hair she hid up in a bun, and a smattering of freckles on her nose. “Doctor?” It was a guess more than a memory, but she nodded.

“Dr. MacAffery, yes.” She leaned against her desk. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

Dean was about to shake his head, but then he remembered blood. “Cassie,” he breathed. “I saw…she…” His eyes lifted to hers. His memory was cloudy, and his body felt sluggish. “Died…she died…”

Dr. MacAffery nodded. “Yes. You saw it happen. You had a psychotic break.”

Dean shook his head. No. Winchesters don’t break. Not like that.

“We’ve had you pretty sedated since you came in. But I dialed back the meds yesterday so we could try to figure out what happened in that head of yours.”

“Meds?” Dean’s thoughts were slow, and he felt uncomfortable in his skin. “What meds?”

She frowned a little and sat in her big leather chair. “You were raving pretty badly when they brought you in. You said you had seen a demon.”

Dean started in his chair, twitching and turning away from her as much as he could. “We gave you some anti-psychotics, and some sedatives. Our primary goal at the time was to calm you down.”

“Now?”

She smiled again and Dean decided he liked it when she smiled. “Now, we want to help you get back on your feet, so you can go home.”

“Sam.” Dean sat up, looking around like he’d been stung by something. “I need to see Sam.”

“Your brother was here yesterday.” She said, watching him closely. “He cares about you very much.”

“He can’t be alone. I need to be there.”

“He’s not alone, Dean. He has your foster mother and sister with him.”

Dean could feel the panic welling in him. He tried to remember the nightmares, the ones where Jenny and Janet were dead, but they eluded him. He had to recognize it faster, or they’d die just like Cassie. “You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand, Dean.”

He shook his head and chewed on his nails. “Can’t.”

She sighed. “How about I tell you what I do understand, and we start there?”

He looked at her, still suspicious but nodded.

“Okay, I understand that you feel responsible for your younger brother because you’ve taken care of him since you were four. I understand that you sometimes are more of a father for him than an older brother, and that his devotion to you is extreme.” She smiled and put her folded hands down on the desk. “Your aren’t the first kid in this position Dean.”

“I look after him. It’s my job to make them safe.”

“Them?”

Dean looked up, startled. “What?”

“You said them.”

“Him…Sammy.”

She nodded. “But you said them. Did you mean Cassie too?”

Dean spit out one nail and moved on to the next. “Cassie…I couldn’t help…I should have been able to help.”

“Cassie and her father were killed by a man on very heavy drugs, Dean. You couldn’t have helped them.”

“No.” It was wrong and he knew it. He knew. “I dreamed it. I knew.” Shit. Did he just say that out loud? He looked up at her and noticed that she was forcefully keeping her face neutral.

“Dreamed what, Dean?”

“Nothing…it’s nothing.”

“Obviously not.”

“She died. I dreamed it. Weeks ago. A year ago.” He spit out another nail. When had he started biting his nails?

“Did you tell anyone about these dreams, Dean?”

He shook his head. “Just dreams, right? Just dreams. Don’t mean anything. Then she called, and I knew…I knew and I couldn’t get there…not fast enough.”

He looked down at his feet, noticing for the first time that they were bare, and a little bruised. He vaguely remembered the pounding they took as he’d run. “How long?”

“How long what Dean?”

“How long have I been here?”

“Five days.”

Sammy had been alone for five days. “He was here yesterday?”

“Your brother?”

Dean nodded miserably. “Yes.”

He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “Is he okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, he’s fine. Worried about you.”

“Okay.” He had to get out. “When can I go home?”

“That’s up to you, Dean.”

“Good.” He stood up. “I’ll go now.”

She chuckled and gestured back to the chair. “Not quite like that. It will depend on how you respond to the treatment.”

He didn’t like that word. He sat back down slowly. “I feel…icky.”

“That’s the meds. It takes a while for the body to adjust.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Maybe not, but they’re necessary.”

“Why…did I…I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?” Dean had a sudden sinking feeling, remembering flailing arms and fighting against being tied down.

“Well, you did give one of our orderlies a black eye, but other than that, no.” She sat back in her chair. “The meds will help you figure out what is real and what isn’t Dean, help you find your way.”

He nodded, but didn’t really follow her. He knew what was real. He knew what he saw. He knew. Didn’t he? He looked up at her, filled with the fear that maybe, just maybe he really didn’t.


End file.
